The world is a horrible, cruel place.

Even though the mass media is constantly attempting to convince us that the world is heading in the wrong direction on a vertical axis, I often consider myself to be fairly optimistic on behalf of the potential of humanity. I firmly believe mankind has demonstrated its ability to recognize and follow those of great talent and ability; it is this conviction that keeps me from straying from my neverending quest for the betterment of society. Lesser men might have had a look at our species, given a shrug and a sigh before declaring it a hopeless case and call it a day, but not me. I will never give up in my endeavor of making people realize that I know what’s best for them.

There are days, however, when despite the strength of my convictions, I find the world to be a harsh and unforgiving place, when I would like to hide from it all instead of taking it on my shoulders to steer our society on the right track.

You see, I have fallen ill. My sinuses and nostrils have taken to doing quite realistic impressions of members of a North Korean border guard patrol, and regrettably they’re remarkably good at blocking all attempts at crossing traffic. My throat feels like a cheese grater, and the sensations from my skull indicate that herds of rhinos are trapped inside and are undertaking a coordinated effort to break out.

The world seems to carry on, oblivious to my suffering.

I grit my teeth and bravely fight through it, without succumbing to the temptation of dragging others down to my level of misery through excessive complaining, thus hoping to be an example for all that every ordeal can be overcome.

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